


To Watch You Fall

by Bioluminescent



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 08:37:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17280728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bioluminescent/pseuds/Bioluminescent
Summary: In thousands, if not millions upon millions of universes and timelines, it always went the same way. There was usually not much alteration in the grand scheme of things, and the linchpin to this entire version of fate stayed constant. Even as timelines repeated, recycled, or began anew simultaneously or in a scattered offbeat pattern known only to the cosmos, this one moment always occurred the same.Of course, there were minor differences in each of them, but no two were exactly alike, whether it was the season, year, a single loose button, or a nanosecond off from its occurrence.And in the millions upon millions of alternate universes and timelines, there came a time where this one moment, of course, had a more significant change. This one moment and this one change resulted in a massive ripple effect in that one timeline and the ones that came after that were influenced by that one change. And these ripples were not unlike those of a small shift in undersea bedrock that slowly built in power to result in a tsunami that left more than one destroyed city and life in its wake.It goes like this.





	To Watch You Fall

**Author's Note:**

> So I did not expect to spend the past three days and the foreseeable future writing something that was supposed to be a short plot bunny, but over ten thousand words later here we are. I wanted to know what would happen if Steve and Bucky switched places. This is what my brain shoved at me. Not betaed, so all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Read the tags folks, this _is_ meant to be a happy story with a happy ending!
> 
> Hope you enjoy and have a Happy New Year!

In thousands, if not millions upon millions of universes and timelines, it always went the same way. There was usually not much alteration in the grand scheme of things, and the linchpin to this entire version of fate stayed constant. Even as timelines repeated, recycled, or began anew simultaneously or in a scattered offbeat pattern known only to the cosmos, this one moment always occurred the same.

Of course, there were minor differences in each of them, but no two were exactly alike, whether it was the season, year, a single loose button, or a nanosecond off from its occurrence.

And in the millions upon millions of alternate universes and timelines, there came a time where this one moment, of course, had a more significant change. This one moment and this one change resulted in a massive ripple effect in that one timeline and the ones that came after that were influenced by that one change. And these ripples were not unlike those of a small shift in undersea bedrock that slowly built in power to result in a tsunami that left more than one destroyed city and life in its wake.

It goes like this.

Sergeant James Barnes ached.

Everything still ached. And he’d never tell Stevie that after all that he went through, James still ached. It had been a few weeks, maybe even months since Steve had become Captain America and rescued James from that Hydra camp. Maybe months since the Howling Commandos got put together to tear apart Hydra from the ground up. 

But James still struggled with the way days blend together, sometimes molasses slow and so goddamned repetitive that he swore his eyes would start bleeding if he had to see the same similar but not entirely patch of forest road, and other times it sped by so quickly it almost blurred, and James could barely hold on by the tips of his fingers, already raw and red from the cold and wet.

When he stood near Steve, and later the Commandos, the days would crystallize until he could recognize them, until he could think of things other than being strapped to that table, with those instruments and lab coats around him and the burning liquid that seared all feeling from his brain, making it seem like all his veins had turned into fuses and fire was trickling deep and slow into his heart —

The burn in his heart that has persisted for however long it has been, changes into something else when Steve stares down at a wire leading out over a set of snowy train tracks.

He burns soft and slow as they each save each other in the train, he burns shockingly cold as he slams back first into hard metal that yields and gives behind him until he is falling. But a hand catches and holds and his shoulder burns at the harsh wrench as he stops falling, muscles burning and eyes tearing up in the wind.

James looks up at his friend, traces that so familiar face with his eyes, and knows that he is going to die. Even as he reaches desperate for Steve, something deep inside of him has already accepted it and the cruel injustice of it all. They just got each other back after all and now he’s just going to leave Steve all alone again?

The rest of him growls at the thought. Like hell is he going to leave Stevie again, alone at home but this time with the surety that his best friend won’t be coming back from the war because he watched him die with his own two eyes. And with a strength that James never knew he had, he lunges for Steve’s hand and catches it, just as he catches the glimpse of another Hydra goon entering the car with gun raised. 

At his yell, Steve turns as he pulls James up from the edge of the ravine, but even supersoldier serum and enhanced reflexes and strength aren’t enough to stop the path of an already fired bullet.

One moment Steve is standing next to him on the train, grim but relieved at saving his friend from almost certain death. The next he is gone in a spray of blood across James’ face, sticky and hot, before the barrel of the gun swings toward him.

Time slows, and James feels something inside him break. Training kicks in just as time speeds up and the next thing James registers is hands pulling at his shoulders, his sides, anything to get a grip on him to hold him back, and as he realizes that the warmth running down his cheeks is a mixture of blood and tears he goes limp against their hands. Sound is muffled like he is underwater and James stares at the mess of a person he left on the train car floor.

A sharp stinging across his face and James can suddenly control his body again. Noise comes slower but it comes all the same as James shudders into the hands suddenly supporting him instead of restraining him.

“...Sarge?...what’s goin...”

“...Hydra...dead...”

“...where’s Cap?”

James takes a deep breath. And then another. He pushes back the sob building in his chest and throat because _dammit now is not the time for it!_ but some of it must still leak through as the familiar hands on his shoulder grasp and twitch, as voices build before one large hand clamps on his bicep and squeezes until he moves his attention to Dugan’s mustachioed face.

A deep bassy rumble — as familiar as his own face in the mirror at this point given how close and how quickly the war shoved them together — fills the air, “Where’s Cap, Sarge?”

Creeping numbness fills his body as he lifts one arm and points at the open side of the car, “He fucking shot him.”

The air in the room stills, even as it howls and shrieks outside, the train continuing its rumbling path to its destination. James welcomes the pain as the hands on him tighten past the point of hurting.

Time seems to break again. It passes by on the remainder of the train ride slow, so slow but skips and jumps around when they report to Colonel Phillips and then James is standing in front of Ms. Carter. 

It is at that point that James fully realizes that Steve is gone. As he and Carter go through a bottle of bourbon in her private tent, tears streaming down their cheeks, James _burns_. Tomorrow they will make their move on Schmidt, but instead of Steve at the helm James will take his place. No one else could take the place of Captain America. And James burns at the thought of continuing when his entire world has fallen apart, as he sits here and drinks with Steve’s girl, he rages inside at the war that doesn’t care that his best friend has died, it is more concerned with replacing Captain America, the symbol and hope of the Allied battlefront.

James knows that Steve will go down as the pinnacle of hope in America with his self sacrifice to save his best friend. But the history books won’t get Steve’s death right. They won’t speak of how bloodshot Carter’s eyes got that night, or how Dugan has been quiet since the train, or how Dernier and Morita both went to a bar to fight and not to drink. The history books won’t speak of many things, least of all how a super soldier died just like so many other people in the war. A bullet to the head.

The next morning, James settles Steve’s shield across his back and goes after Schmidt with a gun in his hand and his friend watching his back.

Another skip of time and James is on his knees, grinning bloody toothed up at Schmidt, blood boiling and muscles straining at the hands on him. Schmidt snarls words at him, and James laughs through his response.

“I’m just a boy from Brooklyn.”

On the back of a car chasing a plane, the rage diffuses just enough for James to lean down and press a kiss on Carter’s cheek with a wink and an eyebrow waggle. The huff of laughter and the swat to his backside is sweeter than the ideas running through his head on how to make Schmidt suffer.

And suffer he does. Schmidt does not die defiant to the last in this timeline, oh no. He dies begging and bleeding, a shield jammed into his throat and the Tesseract just out of his reach. James grins down at the creature under Steve’s shield before leaning all his weight onto the edge. The crunch is muted in the loud hum of the plane but James cherishes it all the same.

And when Carter is trying to hold back the tears that haven’t dried over the comms, James knows his decision even before his hands press the plane down toward water so dark it is almost black.

The nose of the plane crunches at the impact, water rushing in a cold wave through the broken windshield, and James lets the current carry him from the pilots seat to the other side of the room. Grief swarms him and James relishes the burn of icy water as he breathes deeply, as he chokes on it, bubbles escaping past his lips in a burst. With luck, James will see Stevie again in the afterlife.

But we all know that isn’t how this story happens, no matter for all that it has been changed. No, James Barnes does not die at the bottom of the ocean, and that may be the only thing James hates Zola for more than his previous experiments.

For almost seventy years, James aches at the bottom of the Arctic. He aches from drowning, from cold, from grief.

***

James sits in the apartment one of the SHIELD agents had signed over to him, and he stares blankly at the walls around him.

Not knowing if the shock is from the displacement of so much time and his new environment, of it being 2011 when last he knew it was 1945 and he was ready to die tilting that plane into the water below him, or the fact that Steve is well and truly dead.

But now, even if the chill of the ice has somewhat subsided in the warm heat that follows him from building to building, there is a more dangerous chill settling itself in a cold lump just under his heart.

Running a hand through his hair, James lets out a shaky breath, feeling the prickle of tears build up and does nothing to stop them fall. 

Everyone is dead. 

Everyone but Carter.

And how is he supposed to go see this new Carter, old and withered while he somehow survived almost seventy years in an iceberg and is as hale and whole as he was back then, in body if not in mind? James knows that he will eventually visit Carter, the one remaining constant in his life right now, but only after everything settles a little bit. After he can look outside at all the cars, and when the overlay of new buildings in New York stop shuddering into those of before the ice.

Rubbing his hands over his face, feeling the familiar calluses he had built up after hours of handling his guns. A huff of laughter and James drops his head between his arms, shaking his head when he realizes he never asked about any of his belongings. A file sits on the kitchen counter detailing the lives of his friends and family, but he cannot bring himself to read it now.

That might be a step too far in this sequence of them.

Over the next few months, James adjusts far easier than he thought he would, but soon enough his interest overtakes the shock.

Through his browsing of the internet -- _the internet!_ \-- with surprise and shock he finds that Stark had a kid, who is now the rather flashy and self imposed superhero, Iron Man. James is conflicted for a time, considering reaching out to Tony Stark, but eventually gives up that thought for other things, as he was never as close to Howard as Steve had been.

God, Stevie. After all the time that passed, James was right in how history would portray his friend and after the initial grief, he laughed himself sick over the haughty righteous idealized Captain America that had been formulated over the years. But even if he wanted to disprove all of that (which he doesn’t, it’s too funny) he had been informed by a stuffy, bland looking agent in a suit that as far as the general public was going to be concerned, James Buchanan Barnes died crashing the plane into the Arctic, bringing Schmidt down with him.

There was the offer to join SHIELD as a specialist, but James had declined for the time being, wanting to get a better sense of the world and this shady shadow organization before committing to anything.

The agent had merely nodded and offered their services to make him more comfortable, ending the conversation with a hand outstretched, a faint smile, and a heartfelt, “Welcome back, Sergeant.”

That had been a bit weird, but not as much as the tail they had on him for the first week or two after his declined job. Almost sure that the tail knew he had spotted them, James had let them do it, seeing no harm in keeping track of the man out of time.

It took awhile for everything to stop being so damned weird, but once James felt remotely settled, he went to visit Carter.

Once again, SHIELD took care of many things, including access to Carter in her nursing home and a private flight down on one of their fancy ‘jets. He knew a few of the guys that would have killed to get their hands on one of those things, but that was another thing in the past. Not to say it didn’t hurt every time he remembered, because it did.

Seeing Carter was...difficult.

For James, it was just yesterday that Carter was up and about, kicking soldiers who gave her shit to hell, and taking down Nazi’s, as well as looking fierce on the back of a car with her neatly done hair whipping her face in the wind. But now, now Carter was frail and small on her bed, with a picture of her family on her bedside table. A new bolt of pain shoots through him when he sees it, and the cold lump under his heart throbs, a deep pulsing ache that he pushes back, instead giving Carter a slightly watery smile from where she watches him.

Relief on her face, as well as concern and worry were what he expected to see, but the love in her eyes was something he had not expected. And as she huffed and swatted weakly at his arm, some small voice whispered in the back of his head, _you don’t deserve this_.

When Carter slipped back into her memories, clutching at his hand and whispering about how long its been, James fought down the lump in his throat and told her he didn’t blame her.

After visiting Carter, James knew he had to take some time for himself, away from the eyes of SHIELD, no matter how helpful they were.

So regardless of whatever fancy recognition software they had at their disposal, James did his best to drop all of their personal tails and disappear for a few months into the world.

He kept an eye on the news, on all that was happening with Iron Man and his battles, as well as the state of the world. James knew that he had a new, harder to drop tail about a month into his tour of America, by the time he had reached Montello, Utah. Once at the coast, he had gotten off the book identification, unmarked by the legal papers given to him by SHIELD. In Japan, his tail had been left in the dust.

Trekking around in the east, James made his way through dirty towns, when he happened upon a Hydra safehouse containing two agents. Even without a gun in his hand, they crumple like wet paper when he barrels through the back door. 

The New Year found him in Poland, at a dingy little dive bar, settled in the back corner booth, a bottle of whiskey in front of him and an unused glass next to it. A fight breaks out among the patrons, and by the time James has left the bar he has a bruised cheek and scraped knuckles.

The next day he was on his way to France.

For the first few months, James spends his time sightseeing, moving from one small town to the next, and whenever he encounters a lone Hydra safehouse or agent, well, he makes do. 

The cold burn in his chest does not go away. But with each splatter of blood from a body that is not his, and each heart that stops beating by his hand, it doesn’t hurt as much. Sleep is not his friend, as the echoes of gore and splatter from his days work resurface in dreams of Steve, of that day on the train, of his own hand pointing the gun at his friend and firing without emotion, his own actions that result in Steve with a hole in his head, a still heart, and the silent sound of wind rushing past senseless ears until hitting the snowy ground with a dull thud. The dreams never go away. Usually when he wakes up nothing in the room is broken. Usually.

And then when he’s cleaning his guns one unremarkable day — collected from various Hydra safehouses over the past few months — a tall man in a black leather trench coat and an eyepatch steps through his previously locked front door, unblinking at the gun aimed at his head.

He introduces himself as Director Fury of SHIELD, and James offers up no explanation as to why he is in Spain, and the Director does not ask why or how.

Either way, a file is slapped down onto the table next to his cleaning kit once he tucks away his pistol. A flick of his wrist opens it, his curiosity getting the better of him, and his stomach drops at the picture of a familiar glowing blue cube in an unfamiliar containment device.

James ignores the bullshit speech about unlimited power for the world, instead flipping through the rest of the file quickly and finding nothing of import. Other than of course, the fact that Howard Stark apparently searched for him for years, as well as for Steve, finding the Tesseract a year after he had sunk the plane. Would wonders never cease, Howard had a soft spot for him.

At the mention of Loki, James huffs a laugh.

One eyebrow raises on the scarred face frowning at him from across the coffee table. “Something funny, Sergeant?”

James glances up, a smirk on his face before saying, “You lot really don’t know when to stop poking at things do you?”

“We need to poke at things to evolve.” James nods in understanding, still smirking as the Director turns to glaring at him to try and pound some respect into him. “There is a debriefing packet with your name on it, if you are willing to help us get the Tesseract back.”

“And if I’m not?”

Director Fury stands up, shrugging his shoulders casually. “Then a whole lot of innocent people are going to die at the hand of a madman.”

Nodding, James begins to put his guns back together, comforted by the smell of oil in the air and on his hands. “I’ll be on my way tomorrow afternoon.”

“We’ll have a car come pick you up.” Director Fury turns to make his way out of the apartment before stopping and glancing back at him. “Anything you know about the Tesseract we ought to know now?”

A click and James stares at the gun in his hand, a sneer making its way unsteadily across his face. “Ya should have left it in the ocean, pal.”

***

By the time that James has stepped into the quinjet on a stormy afternoon day, he has resigned himself to the next few days or weeks or however long it takes to capture or kill Loki to being strange.

The ride to the airport had been quiet, the SHIELD agent in the back with him staring out the window, ready for something, not that he cared for what. James had passed the time by skimming quickly over the debriefing file once more before getting on his phone and looking up this Doctor Banner.

Immediately he was hit by numerous videos of something massive and green destroying a large amount of army vehicles and tanks, and he raised an eyebrow at one fist crumpling a tank, glancing around at the car around him before nodding. If anything went down the shitter then they could just throw the Hulk at Loki and be done with it. But James moved on, more interested in Doctor Banner’s work in nuclear physics and biochemistry. Seeing as most of his work in gamma radiation had been covered in the debriefing, James sunk himself in reading the various papers of Banner’s.

At one point, the agent in the passengers side seat, the same one who had offered him a job, got a call on his phone and had a short conversation before turning to look in the back. “We’re almost there, Sergeant, and then it will be a short ride in a ‘jet to the carrier.”

Glancing up at the agent -- introduced as Agent Coulson when the car had first pulled up -- James nods, turning his phone off and tucking it away before staring at the agent. “And what exactly are you planning on telling the others in this group about me, seeing as my file is sealed six ways to Sunday?”

“Well,” Coulson chuckles quietly, “We were planning on introducing you as the Winter Soldier.” He turns back and after a moment of paper being shuffled around hands James a slim file. “According to the intelligence community, you have been a recently active mercenary taking down low level Hydra agents. Ex-army, part of a classified specialist unit, almost unparalleled skill in sharp shooting and regular arms. Most of which is true, just shuffled around time periods a bit.”

“‘m I gonna have to wear a mask or anything? I’ve seen my picture in books and museums, it’d be kind of hard not to notice the,” He waves a hand at his face, “Shocking resemblance to Sergeant Barnes.”

Coulson nods. “We had thought of that. There’s a uniform ready for you on the ‘jet, and I would recommend putting it on before meeting the rest of them.”

James stares in disbelief at Coulson. “You want me, to put on a uniform before meeting on any of them? Seems kinda strange to me, if I was gonna be the one seeing me for the first time.”

“In your personality characteristics in your file,” he points at the file in James’ hands, “there is a note of how protective you are about your identity, as well as chronic trust issues. Appearing in uniform will only emphasize your caution and distrust of working with a government organization.”

Silence falls over the car, and Coulson soon turns his attention back to the front and the papers in his lap, which suits James just fine.

By the time he has read his file, they have reached the airport where a quinjet waits for them on the tarmac, humming quietly.

The flight is just as quiet, and James paws through the bag with his new uniform, noting how the materials appear to have been worn just enough to not look new. Done in dark greys with a little black, James nods as he looks it over, going to the changing area Coulson had motioned toward at the beginning of the flight and begins to change.

When he strips his shirt off over his head, he hears a choked off noise and smirks, before putting on the tight undershirt provided, then the surprisingly light and thin tac vest and coat. He tucks the fingerless gloves into the pockets, and walks out, carrying the helmet in one hand. The comforting weight of a rifle across his back and the pistols in his thigh holsters calm him slightly as the quinjet shudders a little bit in turbulence, and he stares out the window at the carrier looming in the horizon.

Coulson comes over from where he was chatting with the pilot, and stands next to him as they watch the bustling activity on the carrier as it draws closer.

As the quinjet draws nearer to the carrier, making its way to land, he puts the helmet on, bringing the neckpiece up and attaching them under his jaw. He also pulls on the gloves, nodding at Coulson when he catches him looking.

Landing is smooth, even with the waves of the ocean and wind buffeting the ‘jet. The door opens, revealing a red haired agent in a leather jacket waiting for them, her own thigh holster holding a gun, and he steps down with Coulson, staring at the agent.

She narrows her eyes at him for a moment before Coulson introduces them. “Agent Romanoff. The Winter Soldier.”

They stare at each other. 

As neither of them move to greet the other, Agent Romanoff looks to Coulson. “You’re needed on the bridge. They’re starting the face trace.”

Coulson shifts on his feet, clearly feeling some apprehension on leaving them together. Regardless, he straightens his shoulders as if bracing himself for the future property damage to occur, and nods once. “See you there.”

At his departure, Agent Romanoff pulls a falsely pleasant look onto her face and motions one arm to the ship. “Tour?”

She does not wait for his response, and James huffs quietly in the helmet. He follows her, taking a thorough look around the deck, noticing one figure very clearly not in his natural element, and he takes a moment to wonder why on earth nobody was escorting Doctor Banner like they were him.

James can feel Agent Romanoff watching him as he steps away from her, stopping a respectful distance away from Doctor Banner, reaching out with one hand. “Doctor Banner.”

“Oh yeah, hi.” Banner clasps his hand, shaking it once before pulling away and glancing at him nervously. “They told me you’d be coming.”

He makes no movement toward Banner, keeping his body language relaxed with the hope of getting the man to calm down a little bit and feel more comfortable in this new environment. “You can find the cube?”

Banner huffs a laugh, “I-yes I can.”

Nodding, James spares a look for Agent Romanoff behind him and off to one side. “Good.”

She merely cocks a head at his glance, and she smirks. “Gentlemen, if you want to step inside, It’s going to be hard to breathe in a moment.”

Banner immediately tenses again, and James bites back a sigh as the carrier under them begins to shake, the water at the corners beginning to roil up, activity on the deck ratcheting up as they make their way to the side of the carrier.

“Submarine or air capabilities?” Looking at him askance at his quiet murmur, Banner leans over the edge to look at the metal rising from the sides of the carrier.

“Submarine? Like they want me in a submerged pressurized metal container.”

With a booming shudder, a massive propellor settles itself to the side of the carrier, and with a whine of engines, it begins to lift itself from its perch on the ocean surface.

Laughing, Banner looks uncomfortably amused at this development. “Oh no, this is much worse!”

At that point, Agent Romanoff clears her throat, and they turn to follow her.

As tempted as he is to follow behind Banner once they make it into the inside of the ship, James decides to walk at his side instead, sheltering Banner between him and the wall, jarring those who will not move out of his way with his shoulder and a gleaming glare of darkened visor. James catches Banner watching him with a small frown on his face from his peripherals, and allows himself to smile inside his helmet at the doctors bewilderment.

Agent Romanoff leads them onto what must be the bridge, and he slows, looking around and catching sight of the Director standing at two consoles. A dark haired woman is shouting orders at those seated at their stations, and he leaves Banner to amble around the side of the table, watching at the ocean fades into the sky on the horizon. 

Director Fury turns when he seems to be satisfied with their altitude, nodding at the two of them. 

“Gentlemen.” Without sparing more than a glance in his direction, Director Fury makes his way to Banner, reaching out with one hand. “Doctor, thank you for coming.”

James watches as Banner shakes his hand, one shoulder coming up around his chin and his face turning away for a moment in discomfort before he meets the Directors gaze. “Thanks for asking nicely. How long am I staying?”

“Until we have our hands on the Tesseract, you’re free to go.” 

He nods once. “How far are you guys with that?”

Coulson steps forward to draw their attention, but James focuses on Agent Romanoff crouching next to a station on the edge of the main dais, her fingers lingering on the image of a pale, dark haired man. This must be one of the agents lost to the effects of Loki’s scepter. At her reaction, he must be someone she is familiar with, possibly even one of her team members.

She looks over at Coulson when he finishes his spiel. “That’s still not going to find them in time.”

Definitely a team member given the way she glanced at the picture of the man.

“That’s because your field is too big. You have to narrow it.”

Everyone turns their attention to him. Banner looks at him with a bit of surprise before nodding his agreement.

“Exactly. How many spectrometers do you have access to?”

Smugly, Director Fury gestures with one hand. “How many are there?”

“Alright. Call every lab you know tell them to put the spectrometers on the roof and calibrate them for gamma rays. I'll rough out a tracking algorithm based on cluster recognition. At least we could rule out a few places. Do you have somewhere for me to work?”

Director Fury motions to Coulson and Agent Romanoff. “Agent Romanoff if you would show Dr. Banner to his laboratory, please?”

She moves out of the room, speaking quietly to Banner, and James settles himself on the edge of the conference table in the back, watching the crew go about their work.

After a while, Coulson makes his way over to stand next to James. They share the space in silence, and James can feel Coulson building his way up to make some conversation as they wait for the facial recognition to match for Loki. 

“What do you think of everything so far, Soldier?”

James shrugs, tilting his head to one side as the Director moves to talk to the dark-haired woman on the bridge. “Satisfying to see that some flying vehicles have their place in the world, even if they’re not the ones I expected.”

Coulson lets out a quiet laugh, nodding in agreement. “I suppose I can see that. Is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable?”

He hums, thinking for a moment before replying. “I’d like to have a look at the layout of the ship, blueprints, guard patrols, shift schedules, anything that I have clearance to.”

A pause that may be filled with a touch of surprise, and Coulson nods, pushing off the table. “I’ll get that to you as soon as possible.”

James waits as Coulson fiddles with a tablet nearby, glancing around once again at the crew in the room. He notices the dark haired woman watching him from where she is standing with Director Fury, and he makes no move to to turn his head from her. She narrows her eyes and says something to the Director, who shrugs.

Coulson reappears with the tablet outstretched and unlocked, “I also included a list of those that Agent Barton would most likely pick up for this kind of work, as well as the probable ingredients that Doctor Selvig would need to create and maintain the portal.”

“Thank you.”

A tap on the screen brings out that list, before he moves on to the rest, identifying problem spots and making a note of that where he can, knowing that Coulson will see to it that they are modified to the extent they can spare.

Forty-five minutes later, and someone pipes up on the crew deck. 

“We got a hit.”

James looks up from another note about patrol location as Coulson makes his way over near that agent. “Location?”

“Stuttgart, Germany. 28, Konigstrasse.” The agent frowns. “He's not exactly hiding.”

Director Fury motions to James. “Soldier, you’re up.”

He pushes himself off the table with a jaunty two-fingered salute, waiting for Coulson to catch up.

Coulson leads him back to the air deck, Agent Romanoff appearing from one side hall and nodding at Coulson before he leaves.

The flight to Germany is relatively short, and James sits quietly, thinking about the abilities listed for Loki and how to deal with them, including possible unknowns for the scepter.

When they make their way towards the museum, there is a crowd of people kneeling in front of one extravagantly dressed figure, horned helm gleaming in the night light, arms outstretched. Three others of the same figure stand at the ready around the other sides of the crowd, and as James watches, one elderly man stands defiantly.

“Drop the door.”

Romanoff whips around to stare at him as he takes his rifle out and loads it. He moves to the edge of the door, planting his feet before turning to stare at her over his shoulder. “Drop the door, now.” After a moment, the quinjet spins around, kindly giving him a better shot, the door opening with a groan and wind flooding into the space. 

As a bright blue glow emanates from the scepter, James breathes out slowly, the butt of the rifle tucked snugly into his shoulder before firing.

Even from this distance, James hears the sharp _ping_ of metal striking metal, and Loki jerks back in pain, his shot going wide and soaring over screaming people to hit the side of a lamppost. 

Rock music fills the cabin, and James only has a moment where Loki looks wildly around until he somehow meets his gaze from this distance. A shriek of engine, different from what he has heard previously, and a mass of shiny metal slams Loki into the ground, away from the civilians. The three shimmering illusions all drop and the crowd takes that as their leave, bolting away from the fighting figures.

Agent Romanoff keeps the quinjet steady for him as he takes a few more calculated shots, poking and prodding at Loki just enough to keep him off balance in his short fight with Iron Man.

Once SHIELD backup finally appears and makes a semi-circle around him and Iron Man at the forefront, gauntlets glowing threateningly and the scepter already being shuttled into a heavily secure van, Loki holds up his hands in seeming defeat, armor shimmering away to nothing. James frowns, suspicious at how easily he folded and slings his rifle onto his back once more as the quinjet lands.

Iron Man stomps over to them, pushing Loki up the ramp with one gauntlet, watching as he takes a seat near the door, and then promptly buckling him in. 

James steps to the front of the quinjet, never taking his eyes off Loki even as Iron Man approaches and detaches the front of his visor.

Tony Stark stares at him, a smirk on his face as the quinjet rises from the ground with little more than a wobble. “Welcome to the party, stranger. Care to tell who you are?”

“None of your business, Stark.”

Mock offense, Stark wipes a tear from his face. “Not even at first name basis? I’m hurt!”

He shrugs. “You’ll learn to live with it.”

And at that, James makes no move to discuss anything else with Stark, instead turning his attention to watching Loki.

Around a half hour later of pestering from Stark to everyone in the quinjet, the Director’s voice crackles over the comms.

“Report, Agent Romanoff.”

She leans forward, pressing a button on the console just as James feels a sharp poke to his side. Without looking, he slaps away Stark’s hand from his side, missing Agent Romanoff’s response.

“Said anything?”

Shaking her head, she says, “Not a word.”

James can just barely hear the humph from Director Fury, sidestepping another attempt to poke from Stark. “Just get him here. We’re low on time.”

Another finger creeps toward him and James slaps another gauntlet away, barely grimacing at the weight of the metal. 

Stark presses forward, staring down at him as he crowds in. “C’mon man, what’s the matter?” An unholy grin makes its way across his face. “Are you ticklish?”

“No.”

“I bet you are.” James is already moving away from the outstretched finger when a crackle of lightning streaks past the windshield of the quinjet, the thunder almost deafening in the tight space.

Agent Romanoff says a very naughty word, leaning forward to stare at the dark clouds overhead. James turns back to Loki, noticing how nervous he is as he leans forward to glance at the storm through them from his seat. Following his gaze, Stark laughs. “What, are you scared of lightning?”

Loki slides his gaze from the storm to Stark, “I’m not overly fond of what follows.”

A moment later, there is another crash of lightning and a heavy thud on the roof of the quinjet that sounds suspiciously like boots. Stark puts on his helmet, moving to open the rear door. James only watches Loki and how he glances at the storm through the open door. Blue eyes flick nervously from shadow to shadow, and James frowns as one of them comes closer, revealing itself to be a figure that lands heavily on the ramp.

Stark, instead of even trying to get a handle on the situation, fires up his gauntlets only to get a hammer to his chest, flinging him back to the floor, James sidestepping him as the unknown assailant grabs Loki by the throat, tears him out of the seat, and flies out the door.

Grumbling as he struggles up from the floor, Stark makes his way to the door. “Now there’s that guy.”

“Another Asgardian?” James can hear the stress in Agent Romanoff’s voice as she struggles to keep the quinjet steady in the storm.

Stark pauses just long enough to say to them, “It doesn’t matter who he is, if he frees Loki or kills him then the Tesseract is lost.” And then proceeds to follow Loki and the other out the door.

The hammer shoots past him with a whine into the storm and James calmly closes the door behind it, turning to Agent Romanoff.

“I assume you can track them in some way, correct?”

She nods warily.

“If you would, I would appreciate it.”

Begrudgingly, she flicks a switch and watches the monitor for a moment before turning the ‘jet after them. “I’d sit this one out if I were you.”

“I was planning on waiting until Stark escalates it to a stupidly high moment with this unknown assailant and then intervene.” A streak of light arches over the forest below them, and James can just barely make out the shape of a figure struggling in Stark’s grasp. “We might as well pick Loki up on the way.”

Agent Romanoff turns the quinjet in the direction of a lone figure lounging on a nearby mountain, landing precariously and releasing the ramp. James walks out, casual with his rifle loose in his arms, walking over to Loki’s vantage point over the fight between Stark and the other one.

The cracking of trees echoes through the mountains, as does the blast of lighting that strikes Stark’s suit. He looks down at Loki after shaking his head with a sigh.

“You coming?”

Loki slowly looks up at him, his eyes sliding from toe tip to head and back down again to rest on the gun in his hands. “Do you really think that you can take me with just that?”

James shrugs, idly glancing back at the fight currently clearing out a swath of forest. “Nah. I think you’d rather come with me than with whichever one of them wins.”

For a moment, just a single moment, Loki smiles. And in that moment, as James gives his offer to this supposed god, he feels the spot under his heart thaw, a tiny bit. Because that smile on Loki’s face is clearly full of mischief, but it transforms the anger into something less murder filled and more understanding. This is a person who has been misunderstood in his life. And whether or not that has been recent, James recognizes the darkness lurking behind those blue eyes from the mirror. He recognizes it from after Azzano when it appeared in his own eyes. As quick as it comes, the smile and emotions disappear under a spasm of muscle, a mask sliding down quickly with a flash of blues eyes to the fight.

Loki stands, brushing himself off and turns to face him with another smirk. “Well?”

Another glance to the fight still going on in the forest, James turns to the quinjet, and leads Loki back on and into another seat that hasn’t been destroyed.

Agent Romanoff is staring at him with a mixture of distrust, shock, and a calculating anger when he merely motions Loki to a new seat and closes the door.

“If you would bring us a bit closer to those two, Agent Romanoff?”

Thankfully enough, whatever her suspicions are, she does not argue and lifts the quinjet into the stormy air. James rifles around in the back of the quinjet for the bag he had stashed in there before they had left the helicarrier. He tucks his rifle onto one of the racks, settling into a parachute and pushing his arms through the bag straps to strap it onto his front.

Agent Romanoff turns around, glares at Loki, and then looks to him, ready by the door. She sighs and flicks a switch, the door opening again in the air. “I don’t know how you’re going to separate those two, but go for it, I guess.” James does not give that a response and steps to the edge, just catching her, “Your loss,” before he jumps out of the quinjet.

Even with the storm around him buffeting his sides and pushing him back and forth, he is calm. While he never really did that many drops with the Commandos, they were necessary from time to time to get quickly behind enemy lines, and he had always enjoyed them. Just before hitting the top of the treeline, he pulls the chute, feeling it catch on the top branches and slowing him even faster. 

Once the ground is closer, James drops the bag to the forest floor below him and squirms out of the straps, dropping down next to it.

Cocking his head to track the sounds of metal hitting metal and threats being flung back and forth between the two, James unzips the bag and slides Steve’s shield to his forearm and begins to make his way to the nearest sounds of fighting in a light jog.

He climbs to the edge of a broken tree they had destroyed and watches Stark slug the Asgardian across the face and decides this is the best spot as any to break them up, and throws.

“I think that’ll be enough of that today.”

The faint ring of the shield as it hits his hand is a quiet hum under the heavy breathing of both of them as they look up at him. He jumps from the edge of the log, rolling as he impacts, settling into a steady stance in front of them.

“I don’t know what you intend on doing right now --”

The caped man gestures angrily with his hammer, “I plan to put an end to Loki’s schemes!”

“Then prove it. Put your hammer down.” 

Stark takes a hasty step towards him. “Bad call! He loves his hammer!”

Impressed, James watches as the man backhands Stark across the clearing, a new dent in his shiny armor and sparks spitting angry from various spots on across the armor, bright in the darkness.

“You want me to put the hammer down?” A chill runs down James’ back at the low growl, and the man jumps into the air, hammer raised above his head, a look of pure rage on his face.

Bracing himself as best he can, he sends a prayer to the powers that be and raises the shield in defense, hoping nothing will break as the hammer impacts.

An immediate shock wave bursts from the strike, trees being blown from their rooted position, and he hears a grunt and thud of the man landing far from him, near Stark. The resounding ring still hovers in the air as James stands, the other two shaky on their feet as they both stare at him. Stark with whatever face he is making behind the helmet, but James is pretty damn sure it’s at least flavored with shock, and the man with an assessing look behind his own shock.

James raises an eyebrow behind his own visor, not caring if they can’t see it because dammit, it makes him feel better. “We done here?”

The man looks around them all at the destruction wrought by his one strike against the shield, a perfect circle of knocked down trees, then back at James and Stark and nods.

“Good. Agent Romanoff, if you would?” Romanoff voices an affirmative in the comm built into his helmet, and he flicks his fingers, trying to get rid of the persistent tingle of electricity that followed that hammer hit.

With a rush of air around them, the quinjet lands on a smooth patch of fallen trees, the ramp opening toward them. James boards without a second glance at the other two.

After a moment, there is the sound of heavy footfalls from them both up the ramp, and he settles the shield onto his back. Once they are all on board, he closes the door and nods at Agent Romanoff, and they begin their ascent.

They stand there in silence.

As the quinjet rises into the suspiciously clear air, James turns his head to regard the man standing uncomfortably in the quinjet, Loki clearly thrilled at this development. “So, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, who are you?”

Stark groans. “Oh, so you can ask other people that but I can’t ask you that?”

“Nope.” James does not look away from the man now looking confused at Stark. “I’m waiting.”

The man turns his attention back to him and nods, performing a short half bow to him, cape swirling around his shins as he moves. “I am Thor, Crown Prince of Asgard.”

James catches Loki rolling his eyes behind Thor. “Wonderful. Welcome to Earth.”

***

They all settle down around the table excepting for Thor, who stands to one side with his arms crossed, a frown on his face at the prospect of interrogation for Loki.

Banner has relaxed enough to sit near James at the conference table, both of them across from Agent Romanoff as DIrector Fury takes his time entering the containment area where Loki is waiting. Coulson had disappeared a few minutes earlier, presumably to fetch Stark from wherever he is storing his suit on board.

Tapping an angry finger on the table next to the screen overlooking Loki, James stews, ready to tear someone a new one over the exact path that Loki took throughout the helicarrier to his cage.

Because _someone_ thought it would be a splendid idea to take him right past the science center, where Banner had been working with the scepter in plain view.

Even the Commandos knew better than that, and at times they weren’t the brightest with forethought.

But before Coulson returns, Director Fury makes his way on screen, showing exactly what will happen to Loki if he tries to escape. Clenching his jaw tighter, James very pointedly does not look at Banner one seat to his side, although the glare he levels at Agent Romanoff does get her to tense just slightly at the feeling of his gaze on her. It makes him feel a little bit better.

The air in the room stills and crackles when Loki turns to the camera with a smirk on his face. “The mindless beast, makes play he's still a man. How desperate are you, that you call upon such lost creatures to defend you?”

At that, James lets himself take stock of how Banner is holding up, counting his breathing as he watches, and his finger taps on the table harder at the self deprecating grimace on Banner’s face as he very pointedly does not look at Loki. Agent Romanoff is looking at Banner with caution and perhaps a little bit of guilt on her face, but James does not let that convince him for even a second that she would not hesitate to push Banner off the helicarrier if he even appeared out of control for a moment. Harsh, perhaps, but James finds himself rather disinclined to trust this organization or their agents as far as he could throw them.

Unlike the rest of them, Thor is not watching the little discussion going on, for all that he is Crown Prince and most likely being trained to deal with Asgardian citizens as future king. Instead, he is standing with his back to them, arms crossed, one hand running a thumb back and forth over his lower lip, hammer tucked against his hip.

Director Fury makes his exit and the screen goes black, but Loki gets one last smug smirk at them through the cameras.

Leaning back in his chair, Banner is the first to break the silence. “He grows on you doesn’t he?”

James hums loud enough for Banner to hear him, but focuses his attention on the one closest to their little problem. “What’s his play, Thor? Loki intends for the long haul here.”

“He has allied himself with a warmongering race, the Chitauri. Not of Asgard, or any known world to us.” Thor tilts his head to one side, still not looking at any of them. “He means to lead them against your people. To win him the earth. Likely in exchange for the Tesseract.”

“So he’s building another portal for sure. That’s why he needs Erik Selvig.” Banner takes off his glasses and rubs at his eyes wearily.

At that, Thor finally turns to face them. “Selvig?”

“He’s an astrophysicist.” 

“He’s a friend.” Emotions flash across Thor’s face almost too quickly for James to read them, but when he does he can’t say he’s surprised. Hurt, shame, anger, fear, sadness. Loki intends to make this personal, whatever connection he has with Thor ensuring that. James makes a note to stay close to Banner.

James listens to the group chatter for a moment before a poor comment from Banner finally gets Thor to show his hand.

“Have care of how you speak. Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard. And he is my brother.”

Agent Romanoff looks at him, unimpressed. “He killed eighty people in two days.”

Uncomfortable at the attention to his crazed brothers actions, Thor shrugs his shoulders, “He’s adopted.”

For what he thinks is not going to be the last time around these people, James frowns. What on earth could make another prince of Asgard go completely nuts, then decide he wants an army to take an all powerful object that had apparently been on Earth for millenia? While not the first madman to go after the Tesseract, Loki is doing it in an all too ostentatious manner. And to want earth as well? As a prince, he would have all privilege over his people just because of his birth, or adoption whatever, without all the work he is going through now.

Coulson finally makes a reappearance, looking all too happy to have Stark’s attention off him as they enter the room and Stark latches onto Banner’s thought process.

Stark’s conversation switches tracks quickly, leaving James with a bit of whiplash if he is to honest, but he watches him closely. For all his flair and intelligence, he is clearly trying to distract and deflect, much like one of the girls Steve used to work with on the trail they had encountered when they were on leave in London one time. She had used her skirts and jewelry to deflect personal questions, distracting the more lonely men in the bar with flashes of skin and puckered lips.

Turning his attention back to the present, James listens to Stark complain about Director’s set up, covering one eye with his hand.

Deputy Director Maria Hill glowers at him. “He turns.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

_There!_

While smooth about it, Stark is not good enough to keep the slip of his hand down under the console hidden from James, not with all the practice he’s had nicking things from pockets, and passing notes when stuck in that prison camp.

He won’t spill Stark’s secrets just yet. It will be more interesting in the long run to see how SHIELD reacts when they find out, as well as what Stark can dig up from their dark corners. Any edge is important, even stolen ones, especially in a war.

Deputy Director Hill keeps her scowl on Stark, “When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?”

“Last night.” Stark blinks at her, eyes comically wide. He turns to the rest of the group, hands outstretched. “The packet, Selvig's notes, the Extraction Theory papers. Am I the only one who did the reading?”

Agent Romanoff leans forward, discarding the notes rolling down the screen in front of her. “Does Selvig need any particular power source?”

“He's got to heat the cube to a hundred and twenty million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier.” Banner stands from the table, crossing his arms as he paces for a few steps before stopping.

“Unless, Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect.” Stark smiles.

Locking eyes, Banner nods, “Well, if he could do that he could achieve Heavy Ion Fusion at any reactor on the planet.”

“Finally, someone who speaks English.” Moving to shake Banners hand, Stark pauses for a moment to send a toothed grin at Agent Romanoff. “Agent.”

Interesting, but not as interesting as the science that is being discussed. The Deputy Director, Agent Romanoff, and Thor look slightly confused at the terms being thrown around, and James catches sight of Coulson shaking his head off to the side. 

At that point, Director Fury enters the bridge. “Dr. Banner is only here to help track down the cube. I was hoping you would join him.”

Stark waves a hand in the middle of the conversation with Banner, maybe giving his assent of just to be an asshole. James catches the faint sigh from Coulson and he smiles.

He decides to throw the Director a line. “It might be easier to start with Loki’s scepter. Given the footage I’ve seen, it’s probably powered by the cube. Nice of him to give us something that gives off the same radiation as the cube to use.”

“The grunt has a brain!” Stark clasps his hands together under his chin, beaming at James from under his eyelashes. “And you never told me?”

Lifting one shoulder, James shifts to a more comfortable position in the seat. “It wasn’t relevant at the time.”

Stark throws a wink at him before turning back to Banner, one hand already on the man’s elbow to lead him back to the science labs.

“I’d like everyone to be ready for when we get the hit on the cube.” Director Fury sweeps a hard look across the lot of them, and beckons for Deputy Director Hill to join him at the front of the bridge.

With the clear dismissal, James shoves himself to his feet, nodding at Agent Romanoff and Coulson and making his way out of the bridge. 

The way that Director Fury acted around the scepter has tickled something in the back of his brain, and it didn’t take long for him to realize that it acts surprisingly like the Hydra weapons back in the day. As a matter of fact, the Director seemed all too willing to be disinterested in the scepter. _Too_ disinterested.

About halfway down to the lower holds, James hears loud steps following him and he stops, turning to see Thor hurrying after him, cape gone but hammer by his side.

Wordlessly, James continues walking once Thor reaches his side.

They walk in silence for a moment, passing less agents the deeper they go, and none of them give them strange looks. Perhaps because once he had finished his notes on security in the ship, he had made his way through the bowels to annotate them further.

Thor clears his throat and James glances at him, nodding to let him know he acknowledges him. Some of the tension releases around Thor’s massive shoulders.

“I would wish to know what you intend, if you are willing to accept company.”

Straight to the point. Nice.

James shrugs, not answering until they’ve gone down the last flight of stairs and have turned the final corner, coming to a stop in front of a heavily armored door. “I want to have physical proof of what the Director is hiding. Especially about their work with the Tesseract.”

Walking up to the keypad, James looks at it, grunting in annoyance as he notices the camera above it. He looks at the door. Back at the keypad.

Stepping up next to him, Thor digs his fingers into the metal and James watches as it bends like putty. The door open with little much than a groan, and he ducks under Thor’s arm as he holds it open. It slams shut behind them and they look at each other before nodding.

He leads Thor around the walls of the warehouse, keeping out of sight as much as they can with Thor’s footsteps echoing slightly in the room.

“So, Thor, tell me a little bit about Asgard.”

Thor hums, ducking behind a stack of crates and peering around the corner. “It is a beautiful place. The royal palace of Gladsheim is where we were raised, amongst the various court schemings and such.” He chuckles quietly. “There was one time when we were younger, that Loki and I snuck into one of the guest suites one of the court members was in at the time and dumped a whole batch of surströmming in the sheets. Oh, we had to run so fast once we did that, father would have beaten us blue if he had found out.”

He waves Thor ahead of him and they dart down a short hall made by the crates. “Did the court member deserve it?”

“Yes, he had called one of the female servants something I would rather not repeat. We took it into our own hands, seeing as she could not.” They stop in a dark corner, and Thor looks around curiously at the various metals crates and boxes they are surrounded by. “Why are we here?”

James steps up to the closest crate and pushes the lid off.

And there, shiny and gleaming in the low light, is what he had hoped not to find. But, it proves his point to not trust SHIELD at all. Thor leans over the crate and raises one eyebrow, looking at James. 

“These are weapons used by Hydra in the second World War. I got suspicious when the Director refused to say anything concerning the scepter, especially seeing how similarly it works to these things.” James reaches for the rifle in the padded box, turning it to get at the power unit and removing it with a whine as the machine powers down completely. “Fucking idiots.”

Turning, he sees Thor opening another larger case, revealing one of the armaments on Hydra tanks, and approaches as Thor turns it as he did, looking down at the power unit on this one. “These are powered by the Tesseract, are they not?”

“Yes, they are. Which is why it’s so interesting as to why SHIELD has them in low power mode on the helicarrier as we talk of war.” He reaches around Thor and removes this power unit as well, handing it to Thor when he holds his hand out.

Brow furrowed, Thor looks at him. “And what do you intend to do with this information?”

“Use it as blackmail. They can’t do anything if we have physical proof. I mean, sealed files help a whole lot, but they can deny those til they’re blue in the face. Physical evidence,” he hefts the rifle from the case over his shoulder, “is a hell of a lot harder to deny.”

Thor follows him from the warehouse and down to an unused closet, frowning as he tucks it neatly behind a stack of paper refill packets and closes the door. They walk together to more populated levels of the helicarrier until James is sure Thor can find his way back to where they have him situated.

James nods at the power unit in Thor’s hands. “Keep that. Think about everything we talked about. Come find me when you have more questions.”

And he turns and walks down the hall, going up a few more levels until he finds the science labs. Before he has stepped into the lab, he has tucked the power unit into an inner pocket, looking around for the two resident geniuses as he steps into the room.

Banner is at one table, grumbling under his breath at the screen in front of him, Stark on the other side of the room tapping swiftly at another. 

They both look up as he enters, Banner flicking his eyes between Stark and him before sighing quietly and rubbing at his eyes. Stark grins at him and steps away from his screen.

“Have you finally come to tell me your delicious and stupidly classified identity?” 

James catches Banner rolling his eyes from the other side of the room and huffs a laugh. “You wish, Stark.”

Pouting, Stark strides across the room towards him as he leans against a counter along the wall, “Pity. I’ll crack you eventually. Now why are you here?”

“I was bored.”

Even Banner looks skeptical at that, Stark narrowing his eyes at him before tilting his head to the side and pointing triumphantly towards him. “I knew it! I knew you had a brain!”

James shrugs. “I certainly hope I have one.” He stops his peruse of the lab, ignoring the scepter from where it pulses gently on its stand and turns his head to Stark, letting him know he has his full attention. “How much have you decrypted of the sealed files in this place?”

The amusement that was on Stark’s face hardens at his question, and Banner’s hands stop moving from where they were typing on his screen. “Why do you want to know?”

“Thought I’d give you some hard evidence.” Reaching into his coat, he pulls out the power unit before either of them can tense any further and holds it out to Stark. He wiggles it, not moving from where he is leaning against the counter. “Go on. Take it, Stark.”

Gingerly, as if it was a bomb, Stark takes it with his thumb and forefinger, raising it to the light like it is a counterfeit hundred dollar bill. He watches and Stark frowns at it, turning it over in his hands before going to one of the stations and pulling a light over to peer at it more intently. Banner wanders over to the other side of the bench, looking at the unit and glancing over at him where he watches. They mutter back and forth to each other for a few moments until Stark swings around to face him again.

He stalks forward, poking him in the chest with the unit, face unusually serious for a playboy. “Where did you get this?”

“In secure storage a few levels down.” James slowly pushes the unit away from his chest and away from the two of them. “I would be careful with that if I were you.”

Stark steps closer, either unaware of the buttons he is poking at or all too aware of them, and snarls, “Do you know what this is?”

“You’re the one who said I had a brain, what do you think?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, James sees Banner duck his head to his chest, breathing steadily and slowly. He focuses back on Stark and smiles under his helmet. “Of course I do,” Stark blinks at his soft voice, and James can already tell this is going to be too much fun. “This is an original power unit from a Hydra weapon, found in secure storage 10-C on a SHIELD helicarrier. Seeing as the last time these were used was when Schmidt had the Tesseract in his hands, I’m mighty curious as to why SHIELD has these when they previously were also in ownership of the Tesseract.” James leans forward until Stark’s breath fogs his visor. “Not everyone has the monopoly on weapon creation and distribution, Stark. Some people just have to make do.”

Stark jerks back, drawing in a sharp breath, face pale and nostrils flaring. “Fuck you.”

“You wish.”

Growling, Stark backs away from him, and James only watches as he waves a hand at Banner. “I’ll be right back, Big Green.”

The quiet woosh of the door is loud in the room.

“I don’t know why he thought I wouldn’t poke him back.”

Banner laughs, shaking his head and looking at him. “He’s just going to try harder, you know.”

“Meh.” He shrugs, unconcerned about Stark finding out about his identity. At least then he could take this fucking helmet off to talk to at least one person. “I don’t care so long as he’s distracted by that than other things he could be poking at.”

“Yeah, that’s uh, a good point.” Halfheartedly, Banner pokes at one of the active screens around the room. “Uh, would you tell him if he asked?”

James hums, shifting against the counter. “Maybe. It’s fun to watch him squirm.”

Nodding, Banner fiddles with a stretch of wire in his hands. He waits patiently for the question he knows Banner wants to ask.

After a few minutes of silence, James pulls out his phone, going to a few of the bookmarked articles he had for some light reading and busies himself with that. Banner walks between a few of the screens, making notes or adjustments to the algorithms. They work in silence for a while, and James finds himself relaxing in the quiet noises of the machines around him and the tapping of fingers on a screen.

He glances subtly up at a sharp intake of breath, but it’s only Banner readying himself. Shoulders up around his ears as he hunches over a screen, Banner takes two more steady breaths before straightening somewhat.

“Would, uh, would you mind if I asked who you were?”

“Not at all.”

Banner waits, and James has to hold himself still from laughing as Banner scowls. “Well?”

“Are you gonna ask me who I am?” He tries to keep the laughter out of his voice and is pretty sure he fails given the way Banner rolls his eyes and sighs. Luckily enough, Banner only chuckles and leans his forearms on the table in front of him.

“I kind of walked into that one didn’t I?”

Letting himself laugh out loud, James nods, putting his phone away in a pocket, laughing louder as Banner joins in. Unnoticed by either of them, the scepter dims, but the pulsing of blue light grows stronger from the gem cradled on one end.

Once they both can control themselves, Banner laughs again at his hands and darts his eyes over towards James. “So who are you?”

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, but you can call me James.”

The recognition hits Banner first, then shock, but is overpowered by disbelief and he frowns at James. “That’s not as funny as the other joke.”

He shrugs. “You don’t have to believe me, but when Stark finally cracks that file of mine, you’ll find that I’m telling the truth.”

The doors to one side of the lab open and Stark bursts through holding two more power units and a slightly crazed look in his eyes. He points at James. “You. Take a look at the screen next to you and tell me what you think.”

Sensing their conversation to be over, James pulls the screen over and looks at it, sighing at the growing string of decrypted files from the SHIELD mainframe and settles in for the long haul.

***

Hours later, after too many files and one hilarious attempt to eat the proffered blueberry from Stark, he finds the file.

Having to take a page out of Banner’s book, James ducks his head, closes his eyes and fights against the growing wave of anger in his chest. After everything, _everything_ they went through trying to slow the war, they never fucking learned their lesson from Hydra. No, they decided to take Hydra’s power and try to control it. For one singular moment James wishes that Howard never found the Tesseract.

A voice breaks through his thoughts, and he belatedly realizes that Stark and Banner are staring at him.

“You good over there, Tron?”

Not bothering to answer, James takes the tablet next to him and swipes the file onto it, moving across the room to show them.

“Phase 2 is a recycling of Hydra weapons in case Phase 1 -- which is us -- fails.” Swiping up, he flings the file onto the main screen between where they are sitting, and a Hydra weapon floats brightly onto the screen. “Needless to say, we,” he motions at the three of them, “are a recent development.”

“We?” Banner stands up, staring at the file. “I’m only here to find the cube, nothing else.”

James rolls his eyes, glad that the visor hides that and crosses his arms. “Do you really think that a spy agency would be telling the whole truth as to why they need you? Granted, they do actually need you to find the cube, but that’s just an added bonus.”

Sighing, Banner rubs at his eyes, and Stark frowns across at him from behind his screen. 

“How, how do we even know that those power units are for the weapons? All we have are the units themselves, this file, and your word. How can we trust you when we have no idea who you are?”

“That’s a fair point.” James shrugs, reaching up under the helmet to scratch at the back of his neck, thinking. “I’ll be right back.” And without giving either of them the chance to react, he walks out of the science lab.

He heads down three levels to the closet he had stuck the powered down Hydra weapon in and carries it back the way he came. The few agents that pass him stare straight ahead when he turns his helmet to watch them. Even they don’t know if he has clearance and they aren’t about to argue with him over it.

The doors to the science lab open with a hiss, revealing Director Fury scowling at Stark as he sits on the front table with a screen in front of him, the Phase 2 file open on it and Banner standing behind him.

“So what is Phase 2?”

James smirks at the timing and the way Director Fury is preparing himself to bluster his way out of it, but he breaks the Directors thoughts as he slams the rifle onto the table behind him. “Phase 2 is SHIELD uses the Tesseract to make weapons.

“We gathered everything that had to do with the Tesseract to understand it and control it better. We never intended to --”

“I’m sorry, Nick!” Stark spins the screen around, revealing the blueprints for a Tesseract powered missile, “What, were you lying?” 

The doors hiss open again and Agent Romanoff enters, Thor following behind her. 

She immediately zeroes in on Banner. “Do you want to think about removing yourself from this environment?”

A bitter laugh. “I was in Calcutta, I was pretty well removed.” 

“Loki’s manipulating you.”

“And you’ve been doing what, exactly?”

Throughout their little spat, James casually makes his way around the room, coming to a stop between Thor and Agent Romanoff.

Banner’s voice grows louder, echoing off the metal in the room with a ring, “I'd like to know why SHIELD is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction.”

“Because of him.”

Thor blinks at the finger Director Fury points at him. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. Last year you showed up on earth as an unexpected visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned.” He glowers at Thor.

“We want nothing but peace with your planet.”

“But you're not the only people out there, are you? And, you're not the only threat. The world's filling up with people who can't be matched, they can't be controlled.”

James can’t help himself butt in, a sneer across his face that none of them can see, “Like you controlled the cube?”

Their arguing continues to grow, and three levels down, Agent Coulson discusses small orders and needs of the mechanics of the helicarrier. In the detention center, Loki paces the circumference of the cell, tracking the cameras with each pass, as well as the guards that rotate their shifts to watch him. Nothing in the immediate surroundings changes, but the guards shift where they stand as Loki smiles cruelly.

Outside the helicarrier, Agent Barton draws back his bow into the howling wind, blue eyes cold as he swivels and releases his arrow.

Back inside the science lab, everyone has grown tense as Banner steps away from the front bench, and James watches as Director Fury and Agent Romanoff’s hands drop to their weapons, disgust at their idiocy overriding his anger for just a moment.

“You wanna know my secret, Agent Romanoff? You wanna know how I stay calm?”

When he looks at Banner, James struggles to keep himself from tensing and pushing Banner further over the edge. He holds one hand out, palm up as he takes one cautious step forward. “Dr. Banner. Put down the scepter.”

Shocked, Banner looks at him and then down at his hand. He blinks.

A insistent beeping makes them all jump and Banner puts the scepter back onto the table, “Guess you kids won’t get to see my little party trick after all.”

As Banner makes his way to the equipment tracking the Tesseract, Agent Romanoff moves to stand near Director Fury and Stark. James circles her, going to the other side of the room near Banner and Thor.

She and Stark begin to argue again, but James is more focused on the look on Banner’s face as he stares at the screen. They meet each other’s eyes and Banner has the chance to say, “Oh my god.” Before it all goes to shit.

The helicarrier lurches as hot air rushes through the vents at the center of the room and they are all thrown back, glass shattering at the impact. He and Thor collapse in a heap just outside the door, it having crumpled at the combined force of the explosion and a god being cannoned through it. James groans against the ringing in his ears, Thor grunting as he pushes himself up.

They look at each other, clearly thinking the same thing as they both struggle to their feet and bolt down the halls, dodging SHIELD agents as they swarm around like a kicked hornets nest.

At the sound of a massive roar that echoes through the halls, they only speed up, pushing past sealed doors as quickly as they can.

“I’ll be right behind you!”

Thor nods, continuing to wherever the Hulk is as James peels off, heading to the secure storage as quickly as he can. He heaves open the door, gasping as it grinds slowly open and darts in, shoving the cover off the first crate he finds. He grabs the rifle in it, ignoring the agents that bump against him, and pushes himself up with a grunt, the ache in his shoulder complaining from where he had collided with Thor and heads to the detention center, checking the power unit is fully charged before ripping one of the side panels on the rifle off.

Another roar echoes throughout the ship as one agent announces hostiles on board over the intercom, and James pushes himself faster even as one hand tampers with the power relays of the rifle.

He can only hope he did it right and closes it as best he can. He only has one shot.

Halfway up to the detention center and the ship around him groans loudly, before beginning to tilt sickeningly to one side. James scrambles to stay upright as even more alarms begin to pound through the halls, the agents around him stumbling at the shift.

The comm crackles to life. “It's Barton. He took out our systems. He's headed for the detention level. Does anybody copy?”

Agent Coulson gives the affirmative, and James steadies himself against the floor, boots on the wall as he struggles to the detention center.

Slowly, the helicarrier begins to even out and he is able to creep towards the open door, seeing a figure with their back to him as he hears a smug voice say, “The humans think us immortal. Shall we test that?”

James slugs the agent in front of him in the lower ribs, then backhands him into the rail, hefting the rifle into a ready position. “Do you really want to find out?”

A wary look on his face, Loki steps back from the console, hands held away from his body. Stepping past the unconscious agent, James aims for the center of Loki’s chest.

“Nice try, fuckhead. Did you really think--”

A stabbing pain replaces where Loki had vanished, and he chokes on his own blood. He barely registers the sound of Thor yelling, instead focusing on the soft chuckle in his ear and the warm pulse of _something_ from the scepter where it sticks out from his stomach.

The world around him goes fuzzy, and James gasps as Loki tears the scepter from his wound, twisting it as he does so. Landing on the floor sends a sharp stabbing through him, and the next thing he knows Loki is next to the command console of the center.

Air rushes into the chamber, and with a slide of metal on metal the cage containing Thor is gone.

James presses a hand against the wound, his fingers coming away red and sticky, and he coughs, blood spilling into his helmet. Chuckling, Loki wanders a little closer, watching with glee. It takes James a moment to realize what Loki is doing. He wants to watch James as he dies. Well, over his dead fucking body will this little shit do that.

As subtly as he can, James rolls the barrel of the rifle off his shoulder to cradle it in his arm, gasping in pain as he does so.

“You’re gonna lose.”

Loki raises one immaculate brow, amused it seems, at his attempt to distract. “Am I?”

Giving a weak nod, James lets out another burbling gasp. Fuck, that’s not good.

“Your heroes are scattered, your floating fortress falls from the sky. Where is my disadvantage?” 

He rolls his head against the shuddering bulkhead behind him, and meets Loki’s eyes through the visor. He gurgles faintly, and a grin makes its way across Loki’s face.

Jauntily, Loki moves closer and crouches next to him, one hand reaching up to the side of his helmet. “I see now. A man out of time, and out of luck. How about this.” His other hand claps onto the other side, and he hisses as his wound is jostled, Loki leaning in close. “How about we share secrets, you and I, hmm?” The world grows darker, but as he meets Loki’s eyes through the visor once more, James frowns. “Why don’t I see your face before you die, and you know what my little plan is?”

Letting his eyes close as Loki leans even closer to whisper to him, James shifts in the hands holding his head until he has the right angle. 

“Now then,” Loki settles back onto his haunches, still uncomfortably close, but close enough. He feels a tug on the helmet, and it begins to slide up over his head. “Why don’t I get a small glimpse of --”

His helmet falls to the catwalk with a rattle, rolling off and over the edge until it hits the closed bay doors below them, clanging as it bounces to a stop with a quiet and final _thock_.

Through the smoke rising from the end of the melted rifle barrel, James can see the hole Loki made in the wall and the faint glow from the energy beam that hit him. He smiles.

Hissing what sound like swears but not in a language he can understand, Loki crawls out of the hole in the wall and glares at him. Lifting a strangely numb hand, he gives a two fingered salute to the demigod as he snarls his way out of the room.

The helicarrier hums around him when he slumps back, and James can’t help but think that it sounds like it is trying to comfort him. A silly thought of course, but he is soothed by the sound nonetheless. Faintly he can hear the sound of pounding boots on metal. James focuses on breathing without it hurting as much. Instead, a pulse runs through him from the wound and he convulses, pain scattering through him, making it very hard to see anything at all as the pain blots out everything.

A weight lifts from his lap and he drags his eyes open.

Director Fury is staring at him in dismay, reaching for his pulse and turning to call a medic over immediately. He coughs again.

“Stay awake, Sergeant. Eyes on me.”

Turning a bloody grin at the Director, James coughs again, gasping for air as his eyesight blurs. “Nah. Not gonna make it.”

The Director tries to glare him back to life instead, growling out, “Not an option.” And squeezing his shoulder hard.

“Learn from --” another coughing fit and wave of pain pushes him off the wall, crumpled against the Director as he turns and yells louder for a medic, and James winces at the way it rings around his head. “Learn from your mistakes, Director.”

Just as everything goes dark, James thinks, _I’ll get to see Stevie again_.

***


End file.
